


Romance, Kane-style

by Vae



Category: Kane (Band)
Genre: Community: comment_fic, M/M, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-04
Updated: 2012-12-04
Packaged: 2017-11-20 06:48:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/582472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vae/pseuds/Vae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been a long damn flight, and Steve's forgotten the date.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Romance, Kane-style

Steve's one step inside the door when he finally figures out what the look on Chris' face the whole damn way from the airport's been. One step, that's all he needs, one step so he can lower his guitar safely to the floor and take in the sight of the table in Chris' kitchen, properly set for once, cloth and all, real china and silverware, and a fucking candle in the middle of the table. There's a pan of something on the stove, and Steve stops, and turns an incredulous look on Chris. "C'mon, man. You've gotta be fucking kidding me."

Chris just grins, tugs Steve's jacket away from his shoulders, and shuts the door, flicking the lock. "You mean you ain't checked the date? I'm hurt, Carlson. Wounded real deep."

The date. The date. The goddamn date, it's Valentine's day, Chris has only gone and fucking gone all out for Valentine's day and that man's never going to stop surprising Steve. Not in a lifetime. Not in several and hell if he'd ever want Chris to stop. "I got the date, I just never figured you for...this."

Moments like this, where Steve forgets that Chris is a fine actor because that expression on his face looks genuine. The mix of hurt pride and the emotional shutdown that starts locking him out. "So what d'you take me for, huh? The kind to drag you in right off the plane and fuck you blind?"

Given that it's been over a month since Steve's managed to get himself as the same room as Chris... maybe that's not Chris' type, maybe it's his but he was sure as hell hoping. He runs a hand through his hair, very aware that Chris' hands are still on his shoulders, strong and warm through his shirt, and shakes his head. "Guess I figured wrong."

"Guess you did." Chris's hands drop, sliding along his arms, and then, finally, Steve gets a look at Chris' eyes, at the wickedness dancing in their depths. "Or you didn't look deep enough."

Steve takes another look. There's a candle, sure, but it's not lit. There's a pan on the stove, but it's turned down low and there's no one watching it, and if Chris was okay to leave that to come out to the airport, then it's going to be okay a while longer. Just long enough.

The hand in his hair pushes it back from his face as Steve dips his head, unsuccessful attempt to hide the slow grin stretching his lips, and chuckles. "Chris?"

Another hand joins his own, familiar guitar calluses on fingertips tracing his knuckles. "Yeah?" whispers warm against his ear.

"Happy Valentines." Steve lifts his head, leaning into Chris' hand, and lets him have the grin an instant before he's busy using his mouth to taste Chris, because that's what he's traveled to taste. Chris, not his cooking. Chris's heat and spice and smokiness, slow simmer. "Can we get to the fucking me blind bit now?"

Chris laughs, low and soft, breath hot against his face, and that's all the warning Steve gets before there's a sharp nip of teeth on his jaw, and sharp slap of hand on his ass, and he's hoisted, protesting, over Chris' shoulder and headed right past that table to the bed. "Guess maybe you figured right," Chris mutters. "Hell, Steve, you ain't been eating right, this didn't use to be so damn easy."

Steve's putting his money on Chris working out for the show rather than his own reducing ass, but there's one thing on his mind, and it's not how fucking hot Chris is when he shows off his muscles. "Chris?"

"Yeah?"

"You ain't put rose petals and shit on the sheets, right?"


End file.
